Dean's Last Ride
by mnatal77
Summary: Dean Winchester knows he's dying. He knows, without a doubt, that today is his last day on earth. What's worse is that he's completely alone. Post-Apocalypse, yet pre-Season 6. Based on song "Kill Your Heroes" by AWOLNATION.


Dean's Last Ride

This is a Supernatural mini-story I ended up writing in connection with the song "Kill Your Heroes" by Awolnation.

(So this is how I wrote this mini-story. I go through most of the song mentioned above's verses, and create a little storyline to do with Dean's life for each one, elaborating more and more as it goes. Setting: A late evening train in the deep autumn. The basic premise: takes place after the end of season 5. Everyone Dean loves is all presumed dead. Dean has tried everything: the crossroads, complex spells, even selling his years, to bring Sam back from Lucifer's cage in hell; but to no avail. Eventually, something snapped inside him. One day, he woke up with the feeling that he would not wake up the next day. He spent that day how he wanted, and then got on an evening train. The train is en route as the story begins. I advise readers to play "Kill Your Heroes" on repeat as you read this story, it'll help.)

"Well I met an old man dying on a train" - Imagine a stranger walking onto a train, as a rush of cold air enters the car. He takes off his hat, turns, and sees this worn-out, beaten old man sitting alone, staring at nothing. Imagine the old man to be Dean.

"No more destination, no more pain." - Dean knows he's dying. He chooses to live out his final moments among strangers, with no responsibilities, no one to worry about. Imagine Sam is dead, for real this time, along with Bobby, Cas, every other friend. The old man catches eyes with the stranger, and with a pained but adamant look on his face, says "'One thing, before I graduate_…never let your fear decide your fate.'_" Dean stares into the stranger's eyes with earnest, and in them the stranger can see the truth that this statement holds for the old man. If only he knew exactly how true.

"I say ya kill your heroes and fly, fly, baby don't cry." - The old man turns away, averting his eyes from the stranger. This line runs through his head; he wishes he had said to Sammy when he still had the chance. Well, something like it, anyway. Sam would have laughed at him if he said the exact quote. Dean shakes his head a little and looks up at the dirty train ceiling. Whoever Sam's hero was, whether it had been Dad, Ruby, or even himself - whoever it was could not have driven Sam in a better direction than Sam himself did. Dean was always trying to shield Sammy from the world, being a good son, a good brother. If only he had realized then that he was trying to chain a bird to post, in effect. _Sam was the ruler of his own fate, dammit. Not the angels, not Lucifer, not God. And definitely not me._ A flood of people brush by the old man's seat, sending a shiver down his back.

"No need to worry cuz everybody will die." - The stranger looks back at the old man just in time to see his face droop and eyes dull. Scenes of explosions and dripping knives permeate Dean's mind as he recalls the more bitter of his hunting days. Everybody will die? he thinks sarcastically. But how many times is enough? How many times did he hold Sam in his arms, clutching some bloody mortal wound and screaming his name til he was hoarse? Concerned eyes shift towards the old man, who has started to silently shake. Of course, Dean had never let Sam just die; after all, that's why he's in such bad shape now, damn that poker guy… But even that bargain wasn't enough time for Sam. Dean clears his throat and looks straight ahead. A tall lady leans over to look at him before she steps off the train at Pinckney.

"Don't you worry, we love you more than you know." - The train groans into acceleration as a single tear drips down from the Dean's trembling face. His mother's image appears and disappears like a mirage in his brain; at one time whole, the other time bloody and burning. _She always loved me,_ he thinks emphatically. _And I never deserved it_. He looks sideways, and adjusts himself away from the other passengers, aware of sympathetic looks. Now Sam came blinking into his mind's eye. All the sacrifices Sam made on his behalf, the risks he took for the salvation of the world, accepting Lucifer, jumping into hell? Dean straightened his back and sniffed loudly. God, he should have used that exact quote on that brave sonofabitch. Who gives a shit if Sam would have laughed at him? He would have gotten Bobby and Cas to say it too, especially at that moment at the mouth of the Pit. _Damn it, Sam. I really was a crap brother._ A group of screaming schoolchildren infiltrate Dean's traincar.

"Well the sun one day will leave us all behind, unexplainable sightings in the sky." - Once the aisle is clear, the stranger moves over to the old man and says, "Sir, are you feeling alright?" Dean nods quickly and grunts, but takes the Kleenex handed to him. He sighs. Sammy. He thinks back to Sam's "demon days" and how betrayed and untrusted he himself had felt. Sam was his everything, his one light in a dark reality who had moved on to bigger things - without his big brother. _And dammit,_ he thinks, _that was a good thing - aside from the drinking demon blood, of course._ _Sam was meant to shine, and he did. He surpassed all the other hunters._ The edges of Dean's lips turn up, for the first time in a long time. The old man grins through his tears as the train makes its fourth stop at Deerfield.

"Well I hate to be the one to ruin the night." - A tray of food passes by slowly, and Dean stares out the window, his face falling. But what of the pain he put Sam through! with his self-loathing, semi-suicidal disposition. The stranger looks on warily as Dean begins to shake again, visibly. Biting his tear-soaked lip, Dean drops his head into his hands and prays, for the first time since the Pit - _Please, please, let Sam be at peace. That's all I can ask for now. For all the shit that happened to him in life, he deserves peace. And God, I tried to protect him. I really did. But he had his own path, much different than mine. You know…in the end, he - he did good with what he had in our shitty hunting life, and dammit, he deserves to be at peace for that. Just _— his head sinks lower into his palm —_ don't let him be eternally screwed up, even in heaven. God, if I could make another bargain for his happiness, I would, dammit, in a heartbeat!_ Dean doesn't open his eyes for many minutes. He doesn't even know who he was praying to, but he can't help but feel a giant anvil being lifted from his chest. As a dozen bodies pass by, a train attendant asks the old man if he needs to get off the train for a while.

"Right before your, right before your eyes." - Dean's sleeves are wet and his eyes are red as he reassures the attendant of his stability. The still-seated stranger looks around the now practically empty train car, then back upon the old man with dismay and helplessness. Dean gives a decisive cough, and the uniformed man reluctantly retreats. A shakey sigh escapes Dean's lips. _Well, this is it,_ he thinks as he leans back into the itchy, cloth-covered seat. _This has been my legacy._ A parade of visages proceed through the old man's mind, each producing a twang of pain in his stomach: a moose-like vessel of Lucifer for a brother, a cynical old grouch for a father-figure, and a rebel-angel of questionable sexuality for a guardian. Dean smiles. What a motley crew. He wouldn't be doing this is if he thought they were all going to miss him. But there was no one on earth left to miss him, so he didn't feel too bad. He highly doubted he would see any of them in heaven anyway… With these thoughts swirling around in his brain, the old man slowly drifts off into oblivion, and his head slides from his hand to his shoulder as the train speaker warns for Oread.

"You're wrong, you know."

Dean's eyes open with a start, and his head rises steadily. He knows who it is without looking. He almost sobs out loud.

The angel steps forward and leans next to the old man, smiling. "You always were a pessimistic one," he says in a low tone. Dean can hardly bring himself to make eye contact. The glowing figure touches his face, and tilts it upward. The green eyes meet the brilliant blue in an electric shock of unbridled emotion.

"Cas."

He breathes the word as if exhaling from being underwater. "Dean." The angel replies in a gruff voice, holding his gaze. "I…know what you're doing, and couldn't let you go through it alone. I will escort you to where you are going."

Across the aisle, the stranger is watching the old man in confusion, wondering if he should call the attendant back over. The old man speaks again, to the thin air: "Thank you…Cas. What - um, what did you mean I'm wrong, and uh, pessimistic? Like, hello to you to, Cas." Dean smiles his cheeky smile and laughs a little. The angel looks down, grinning. After a couple seconds, he looks up, eyes piercing, and says, "You _will_ see them in heaven. All of them. They will appear just as they were when they left you. Right before your eyes." The old man's mouth slacks a little, and he looks around and then at his hands, in a mixture of disbelief and ecstasy. He was unaware of it before, but sweat is soaking through his shirt and his whole body is shaking in earnest. The stranger, growing agitated at the old man's distress, clamps his jaw and runs through the empty train to find the attendant. Dean stares straight ahead for a few seconds, a faint smile on his lips. Then Cas' outstretched hand comes into view. The train speaker blares "Next stop: Lawrence." Dean slowly rises to his feet, fairly quivering as he grasps Cas' hand and looks into his eyes. He doesn't bother to stem the flow of tears as he utters his final words.

"Thank you, Cas."

The stranger returned to an empty traincar. There were no other passengers getting off at Lawrence, Kansas.


End file.
